You are walking down an old street, an old street that reminds you of your home but you are far from. There are many places to stop, to eat, and many people seemingly downtown to shop or socialize, and sadly a few people that are sitting on the street with hands out but their heads down. You walk by the expensive shops and after a momentary marvel, instead you outwardly poke fun at those that would waste their money on such meaningless material; perhaps, to spare your desire or to honestly mind humbler appreciations.
You are also on display today. No one else looks quite like you. You are pale and hair lighter than most. Many people can speak your language but you are silent as to theirs. So you find yourself whispering to your partner at times, while others yell across your face and you’d have no idea if it was about you. As cars pass, many of the children put their hands on the window and look at you, then yell to their parents attention, and back at you. A couple teens stop with their camera, not for you to take their photo, but to take a photo with you. It is strange, but makes you giggle and your stride now stronger.
Your mind wants to continue, but your feet are sore from walking all day so you stop for street food. Not standard to back home, stands that sell one specialty item have queues down the block. It doesn’t really matter what they are selling, because you are going to try it. Your glands have lead the way to the queue and salivation is your surrender. Never a dull meal, and the spices daily become more familiar.
It is time to go back home now. Returning to a different bed each night, you are with your love and so you are always at home in the simplest respect. Your room is small, sometimes without a window and the air is unfamiliar, and yet you sleep in deeper valleys than many times before. More than simply wanderlust now. Stress is unwarranted, and time passes without fear of tomorrows demands. You sleep with your partner, hand in hand.